


Ripping the Band-Aid

by lionessvalenti



Category: Smash (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 20:26:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: Tom meets up with Ivy to tell her some good news, and some bad news.





	Ripping the Band-Aid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cookiegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiegirl/gifts).



Tom sat at a table in the corner at the little coffee shop on 59th he knew Ivy liked. It was after the morning rush, so he could actually hear the light jazz playing over the sound of the steamer and people talking.

Ivy turned from the counter and gave him a little smile while she waited on her order. Tom smiled back, but his stomach was turning over uncomfortably. He was a mess of emotions, and this was one he needed to rip off like a band-aid.

"Is this a work conversation or a friends conversation?" Ivy asked, settling down across the table from Tom. She held her tea between both hands, the steam rising from the little drinking hole in the lid.

Tom knew Ivy drank oolong with a touch of honey on show days. He used to know her whole routine, but he was pretty sure it was completely different now. Her life was completely different now, and they hadn't had a chance to really sit down and catch up as friends. Today wasn't going to be any different.

"Work," Tom replied with a regretful smile. "But hopefully a bit of both."

"Uh oh," Ivy said. Her smile faded. "Bad news? Are we -- we're not closing, we're selling out almost every night."

The numbers were astounding, actually. It made Tom proud. Ivy was a star, and after she moved on from _Bombshell_ , she would have her pick of roles, and not just on Broadway. He knew it.

"No, we're not closing," Tom assured her quickly, and her shoulders relaxed. "It's not even bad news. It's good, and I wanted to be the one to tell you. Julia and I were in a meeting with Eileen last night, and it's official. _Bombshell_ is going to London."

"London?" Ivy repeated, about three octaves higher. "Oh my god, Tom, congratulations! A London production, that's amazing. And, of course, they want you to come direct it, right?"

Tom couldn't help it, he smiled indulgently. "They do. They said they want the same look and feel, but, uh... they want a change of cast."

Ivy's grin disappeared. "They... don't want me to be Marilyn in London?"

"Eileen wants you here. It's obvious the people are coming here to see you, and she doesn't want to rock the boat."

"Right, no, you're right," Ivy said quickly. She forced a laugh and took a sip of her tea. "Obviously. It's not like I did the tour or anything. I don't have to be Marilyn everywhere."

Tom slid his hand across the table and tapped a finger against Ivy's wrist. "I wanted you there. I thought you'd be there, but apparently the producers in London want to do another cast recording and they said it would be basically the same thing if you were on it. Eileen knows you're the moneymaker in New York and didn't want to push it. It's all about money. It's not personal."

Ivy sighed and gave Tom a sympathetic smile. "I know. Like, intellectually, I know. At the end of the day, it all comes down to business. But it still hurts. Getting to perform in London? That would be amazing."

"And you'll get there," he said. "I know you will. Frankly, I think they're idiots and they're going to come crawling for you. Besides, didn't I hear something about you getting cast in a Dolly Parton biopic?"

She laughed, and it was positively genuine. The burn was already starting to fade. "No, no, I... my agent talked to a guy. They're sending me a script, but that's hardly being cast. They're sending the script to a lot of people. It might not even get off the ground."

"I think you're going to be okay, Ivy Lynn," Tom said, squeezing her hand. "And I've known that a lot longer than you've been Marilyn."

She tilted her head to the side and studied his face for a second, as if trying to memorize it before he left the country. "You're a good friend, Tom."

"I know," he said, and they both laughed. He smiled, the anxiety gone, leaving only the excitement for the future. "So are you."


End file.
